Angela pressed her hands against the metal railing, making her finger tips turn white. She sighed, exasperated, and stepped back from the rail. She looked up and down the bridge, but it was no use. She was hopelessly lost. She hadn't even lived in New York for a full month. Angela paced up and down the bridge. With each step she grew continually angrier with herself. How could she have been stupid enough to run off and get lost like this? Finally, she let out a shriek of rage and rammed her fist into the metal railing. She gritted her teeth in pain and cursed herself for punching the stupid railing. Giving up, Angela sighed and leaned against the rail, gazing out at the horizon.

"Ain't chu out a little late?"

Angela looked up, surprised. A thin boy with piercing blue eyes was looking at her suspiciously. He wore red suspenders and condescending smirk. Angela's eyes drifted over his face and came to rest on the elaborate gold-topped cane he carried. She sighed, her eyes flicking back to the horizon. She didn't have the time or patience to deal with him.

The boy studied her pensively. She was small, with light brown eyes and wavy black hair. Her face was pale, with high cheekbones and full lips. She wore expensive clothes and jewelry and looked very out of place leaning against the Brooklyn bridge. Finally he said, "Youse Jack's goyl."

Angela straightened and turned to face him. "I have a name, you know." she said, irritated. The boy snorted to himself. Still, he figured that if she was all Jack said she was he might as well give her a chance.

"A thou'sand pardons. Da name's Spot Conlon." he said, sweeping off his hat with a bow. Angela turned to face him. The name was familiar. He was friends with Jack. She smiled a little in spite of herself. "Angela DeLanci." she said, extending her hand.

"A pleasure to meet'cha." he smiled. "Now," his face grew serious, "would ya mind tellin' me what you're doin' hea' in Brooklyn in da middle of da night?" Angela's face clouded over as her gaze shifted to her feet. "It's...I-I'm..." Angela shook her head. Spot leaned forward ever so slightly and squinted at her. Jack said she was real smart, so why couldn't she explain? He looked at her promptingly.

Angela sucked in her breath and parted her lips, finally ready to speak. "My family-we're moving to Boston. And I had a fight with my dad about it. Then I had a fight with my brother and I ended up hitting him and cutting his face. So I ran out of the house. I had to leave, ya know, just get out of there," Angela frowned, "But now, now I'm here. And I can't go home. I don't want to go home. Besides, I couldn't find my way back if I tried." she added sheepishly.

"So basically, youse pretty screwed, ain't cha?" Spot observed.

"Yeah, pretty much." Angela admitted. Spot frowned. He couldn't just leave her here. It was far from safe, no matter who you were. And she was Jack's girl. He couldn't just leave her there. He and Jack were friends and he felt a certain responsibility to her.